


salva mea

by Merlinnn



Category: Hollyoaks
Genre: Choking, Explicit Sexual Content, Homelessness, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-20
Updated: 2019-06-20
Packaged: 2020-05-15 07:57:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19291537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Merlinnn/pseuds/Merlinnn
Summary: "Harry hadn’t realised that he could feel like that; beautiful and sexy and known."The first time Harry and James slept together.





	salva mea

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. Title translates to "save me" in Latin and yep, you guessed it, it's also a Faithless song.
> 
> 2\. Partially inspired by James's line: "he's not as innocent as he looks"
> 
> 3\. I'm not gonna pretend this is in anyway a safe depiction of choking during sex; I wrote what sounded aesthetically pleasing. Pls don't try this at home!!

Harry was starting to get desperate. He was 18 years old and was homeless. Homeless, and stone cold broke to be precise. He’d read all those articles about hidden homeless, and school kids who went without lunches and still he’d managed to end up here. There were nights; cold, shivering nights were he would wrap his limbs around Ste and try and stop him shaking, even as he shook himself, and wondered why he ever got himself in this mess. Ste would finally manage to drop into some sort of sleep and would turn in his arms, face droopy and dopey in his own sleepy way and Harry would remember that he _loved_ Ste, loved him with all his heart. And he wouldn’t abandon him. And he wouldn’t go running back to his dad’s like Ste kept telling him to.

 

_Not that Ste really wanted him to. Harry wasn’t a kid anymore and he could see when Ste would tell him to leave he was really begging him to stay. Some reverse psychology where the more he asked Harry to go the more he knew Harry would stay. And Harry loved him all the more, felt so connected to him._

 

And so he stayed by Ste’s side, through blankets thick and thin. Helped him in all his lurid schemes; conning Jack into thinking the Brew was robbed, breaking into the Hutch, hiding from dog walkers in the Folly, and God, wasn’t it romantic sometimes? Staying with Ste, sleeping under the stars, all huddled away together. Sure, Harry would prefer more than tap water for lunch now and then but he was with his true love, and that would keep his belly full.

 

_Later, much later, Harry would think about this; the sleeping in doorways, the binbags of clothes, the secret showers in the school changing rooms and want to be sick. He’d been so stupid and blind and Ste, well Ste had never truly had his interests at heart. What sort of grown man thought sleeping rough with a teenager was a good idea? What sort of grown ass man depended on a teenager so badly? But, Harry would think in his darkest moments, he’d just loved Ste so much._

 

Harry couldn’t believe some of the shit they’d got up to. And then James had been so, well so nice to them. Nicer than the rumours would have led them to believe, and a bit of a harmless come on in return for a powerful hot shower and real roof, no matter how wooden and cramped, was surely an adequate price to pay.

 

_And softly, quietly, waiting to go to sleep that night with Ste snoring away beside him, Harry would replay the way James’s eyes had dragged down his bare torso, stopped at the towel tied over his hipbones and given him an appraising smirk. Fuck, the guilt felt immesaurable but for that brief moment he’d felt hot and desirable, as though James saw past the sweet innocent schoolboy Ste had fallen before, instead seeing right through him and wanting him all the more. Harry hadn’t realised that he could feel like that; beautiful and sexy and_ known.

 

xx

 

Before long the secret, romantic edge wore off and Harry was tired. He barely slept, turning up at school with thick dark circles under his eyes, his five o’clock shadow was becoming a 24/7 issue (well, as far as he could manage one) and his schoolwork was abysmal. How could he do his homework or write his essays or his personal statement in a one room shack behind some garages? Sure they might not be getting rained on any longer but this wasn’t going to get him into university.

Besides, when it came to his schoolwork he wanted to do nothing more than rip Mr McQueen’s _(John Paul, he thought viciously, as though calling his teacher by his first name was insult enough)_ smug smile off his face. He knew, deep down, he was just concerned because he was his teacher, but young, hormonal, sleep-deprived Harry took it as an insult upon his very relationship; as though John Paul was taunting him with the fact _he’d_ never been homeless with Ste.

And Harry would lie awake all night in that little shed of theirs, hearing Ste roll around and snuffle and snore beside him and he’d watch the moonlight move across the walls as it rose and sank and he would take a second to cry to himself. This isn’t, as it turned out, what he’d envisioned for himself. It wasn’t the romantic dream he’d had as he’d begged for Ste to kiss him all those years ago. This wasn’t the future he’d seen for himself either; Christ he’d wanted to do well in his A Levels and go to a university half way across the country to do something smart like Literature, or something practical like Sports Science. See, he hadn’t decided. He was meant to be lying in the warm indoors, coursework done and printed, UCAS application just started as he pondered over his options. So yeah, Harry allowed himself those silent 10 minutes to cry before rolling over and tucking Ste into his arms and valiantly trying to drift off to sleep.

 

xx

 

And so when James had pulled up in that sleek dark blue car of his and rolled down the window, leaning across in a casual t-shirt, Harry had briefly seen his future rolled out before him. This could’ve been him one day; minted, and so full of confidence and swagger and self-importance. He loved Ste so much, but James had made him feel something that day he’d borrowed that shower, something dark and secret and thrilling. Besides. He’d always been a sucker for Nepalese food. And there was nothing wrong with two friends sharing takeout, right?

Except Harry wasn’t sure he’d ever actually seen ten thousand pounds in cash before, and here it was, bundled into a brown manila envelope as if he was buying a brick of heroin. Not that he knew how much heroin cost, and he wasn’t sure Ste would find it funny should he ask. He’d called James a headwreck and it was true, he was one. Ten thousand pounds, no questions asked, in return for one night together? Harry’s stomach had flipflopped; he wasn’t sure whether to be enamoured or terrified. What on Earth did James see in him? And why, as he’d leant over to wipe that crumb from his collar, had Harry been ready to toss it all away.

“I’d never cheat on Ste,” he’d whispered, convincing himself as much as James.

And James, with his ever present smirk, had told him that “Everyone has their price.”

Harry had been seconds from giving it all up for free.

 

xx

 

“Clever lad,” James had said, face mere centimetres from Harry’s, lips curled into a smirk as he sat poised over Harry’s history essay.

“An’ it’s not subtle,” he’d responded, feeling the way James eyed his lips, crooked his head just that tiny bit more.

Harry wasn’t sure he wanted James to start being subtle. And he could feel James waiting, eyes flitting over his. Harry pulled away. For one; he wasn’t a cheat. He didn’t want to be a cheat. For two; the thrill of teasing James was far too irresistible. Getting him close enough to kiss and then pulling away at the last second, the beat of a crestfallen face before he pulled himself together was priceless.

Then logic kicked in and Harry’s remembered how he _loved_ Ste and no teasing little smirk was gonna make Harry _stop_ loving him or stop wanting to be with him. Even if James’s help had changed his essay from a complete failure to two marks off a pass. Even if James had cared to text later that morning, asking how the essay went. Ste still hadn’t asked two days later.

 

xx

 

Two days later Harry was left at the kerb with two errant school kids ( _left with him, he himself still being a school kid after all_ ) as Ste was carried off by Chester’s finest police force. And after getting them back to Mike’s in one piece ( _no easy task with his last tenner spent on bloody kids toys_ ) it was only natural he’d turn to the only lawyer he even vaguely knew. And if James had looked like the cat who got all the cream as he stepped aside to let Harry in, that didn’t matter right then. He was there for _Ste._

Yet sometimes Ste infuriated him beyond compare. He was accused of drug dealing and got arrested and his first thought upon release was to go right back to it? Not under Harry’s fucking roof. His boyfriend could be an idiot sometimes; but Harry still loved him and wasn’t going to let him ruin everything.

“I’m not gonna have you throw your life away because of me,” Ste had said, unable to meet Harry’s eyes and Harry had gone apocalyptic. _Bit late for that, Harry would think later, looking back at all the terrible, terrible things that happened whilst he was with Ste._ But even back then Harry felt righteous anger bubbling in him as he snatched the phone from Ste’s hands. If Ste didn’t want to ruin Harry’s life then Harry wasn’t going to let Ste ruin his own. Christ, did he even think about the kids?

And so Harry had been given the night to cobble together the money; telling Ste it was from his disapproving mother. No, instead Harry texted James.

**I’ll be coming over in 10** , a pause, unsure how to sign it, **H x** , simple, suggestive, no way to trace it directly to him. He wondered if he should feel ashamed.

_I’m doing it_ for _Ste, he thought, unaware that that was precisely what James had told him to do earlier that day._

 

xx

 

The night was unusually cold for April, but dry at least, Harry’s thin bomber jacket having done little to protect him against the spring showers that threatened daily. The walk was silent save the distant rustling of birds settling to roost, and the village took on an eerie feel, sending jitters up Harry’s spine. Was it a sign of things to come?

James had texted him to say the front door was open and Harry let himself in, the familiar sense of the action jarring with the practically _seedy_ nature of what he was doing. Harry knew it should be morally repugnant to get paid for sex but as James had succiently put it, it was _one night of pleasure_. He loved Ste and would do anything for him; one night of sex was nothing compared to true love.

Upstairs, it looked like a cosy set up for a night in for two; warm light suffusing the room, James sat regally, arms spread over the sofa. Two wine glasses and a bottle of red. Harry was no expert but he knew it’d be fancy. The Nightingale’s didn’t really go in for cheap wine.

“And here I was, daring to dream you were here for me,” James had whispered, passing Harry the wine glass. He’d knocked it back in two seconds flat, no care for the subtleties of flavour.

“Dreaming’s free,” he’d said, “But I’ll cost ya,” and James had smirked, let Harry lead him by the hand as he ignored the insistent vibrating of the phone he’d tossed aside.

 

xx

 

It wasn’t hard to find James’s room; it still had the youthful blue ‘JAMES’ sign hung on it, the letters covered in little painted planets. With a quick look down the corridor, Harry could see all of his siblings had little wooden name plaques hanging on the doors.

“James, aren’t you all like… proper adults,” he’d asked, turning to look up at him as he paused in the corridor. James opened his mouth as if to explain before shrugging apologetically.

“My mother insisted we carried on the tradition,” he finally said, before passing Harry to open his door and let him in. Harry would’ve been able to pick it out in a lineup without the helpful nametag. It was sparse; all the required furniture was there but there was nothing special; a nondescript piece of artwork above the bed but no photos, or trinkets, no mess bar a suit left hanging over the chair.

“It’s… nice,” he finally said, turning to see James standing behind him, eyes narrowed ever so slightly at the corners.

Harry’s earlier bravado was starting to wear off, and had he been a few years younger he’d have started toying with the hem of his shirt. Except there was no need, James making no reply to his comment on the interior design, instead pushing into Harry’s space and bending down those few inches to kiss him. It was soft, probing, as though James was asking him a question. James pulled back slowly to make eye contact with Harry, one hand poised over his cheekbone. Harry took a breath.

_Now or never._

He reached up, hand curling around the back of James’s neck as he kissed him back, hotter, dirtier, nothing soft in there. And he could feel James smiling against him, flicking his tongue against Harry’s lower lip as he slid his hands down Harry’s sides, pulling at the hem of his shirt and yanking it over his head. He took a breath, gazing down at Harry’s bare torso, and Harry felt something thrum through him at the appreciative gaze, knew his body was good, felt good to be looked at like that. Then Harry was kissing him again, James’s hands running down his chest, catching a nipple between his thumb and forefinger and scratching it with his nail.

“Oi,” laughed Harry, chest twitching back and James grinned, letting Harry run his hands under his shirt, caressing against the small of his back. Harry grabbed at the hem to pull it over his head when James paused, pulling away.

“Harry, there’s… there’s something you should know.”

Harry did stop then, frowning up at James; what the hell was he going to tell him?

“It’s just I have a skin condition. Psoriasis. It’s nothing, it looks bad but it’s nothing and, it’s not infectious or anything,” he explained brokenly, hands resting over Harry’s.

Harry took only a moment before responding.

“Okay then,” he said, pulling off James’s shirt.

He took a second to gaze over his chest, barely focusing on the small red patches over his forearms and stomach before going onto his tiptoes to kiss him again. And with two hands clasped in the short hair on the back of James’s neck Harry pulled him closer, feeling his wide hands sweep tenderly down his spine and sending a tingle up his neck.

Kissing James was nothing like kissing Ste, decided Harry. Kissing Ste felt almost childish; too soft, and wet, and like Ste was never fully there. But kissing James had opened Harry’s eyes. He had his face cupped between his hands, thumbs smoothing over his flushed cheekbones as if keeping him grounded, teasing at his lower lip with a bite of his teeth, tongue pushing into his mouth as though daring Harry to ask him to stop. Harry didn’t ask, let James into his mouth as he pulled him flush, feeling his erection against his stomach.

“Bed?” asked James, voice raspy as he pulled away briefly. Harry barely managed a nod, taking a few steps backwards as he fumbled with the button and zip on his jeans, tugging them, boxers and shoes off in one swoop as he lay back on the double mattress. Propped up on his elbows he watched James watch him, James’s eyes raking over his whole body and it should’ve have been dirty and _wrong_ to have James stand over the edge of the bed watching the lithe lines of his ab muscles and his taut, hard cock bobbing against his stomach.

Except Harry had never felt hotter. With a smirk he languidly reached down to slowly run his hand over his cock and James grinned mischievously, swiftly divesting himself of his own pants and boxers to climb over Harry on the bed. He bent down to kiss him again, slower, softer, mouth gentle as he reached between them to stroke Harry’s cock, thumb swiping over the head. Harry groaned up into his mouth, back arching as James smiled against his lips. The slow pace of James’s hand was agonising and Harry bucked up for more, anything, _something._ He practically whined with it, wanting just the tiniest bit more friction as James kept teasing him with a long, slow drag of his hand.

_Ste never teased him like this_ , _he thought_.

Harry sobered right up, eyes snapping open to see James had paused his movements, hand stilled at the base of his cock.

“You okay?” he whispered, eyebrows furrowed as he watched the cogs turn in Harry’s brain. Harry took a deep breath, centering himself.

He couldn’t think of Ste, not here, not now.

“Yeah,” he responded, reaching up to pull James back down for an open-mouthed kiss and lifting his hips, asking James to keep going. And James complied, his pace faster now, less teasing.

And Harry let Ste slip from his mind.

Then James pulled away from Harry’s mouth, Harry unconsciously chasing his lips as he watched James lean forward and tower over him, one hand still slowly moving on his cock as he reached into the bedside table with the other, pulling out a colourful foil packet and bottle of lube. Harry shifted his hips upwards.

“Uh James, it’s been a while…” he began, words dying in his throat as he watched James squeeze lube over his hand and reach behind himself to push down on his own fingers, head lolling to one side as he canted his hips in motion with the crooking of his hand. Harry slumped back on the bed slightly, watching the contracting and relaxing of James’s lean thighs as he moved back and forth, the tensing of forearms as he pressed deeper into himself. _This_ was surely the dirtier sight, the pure shamelessness of James as he let out a breathy groan, hand stilling briefly before he moved once again. Harry let in a sharp intake of breath, reaching down to touch himself before feeling his wrist stilled by James’s free hand.

“Not so fast,” James said, husky voice betraying him as he ran his own hand over Harry’s cock, maintaining eye contact and watching him struggle to keep it together.

He reached beside him to rip open the condom with his teeth, Harry’s tongue sweeping over his bitten bottom lip as he watched, before rolling it over Harry. He shifted forward a few centimetres, knees bracketing Harry’s waist as his hands came to settle over James’s skinny hipbones. With a few slow movements, James reached behind him and shifted his hips down, taking Harry inside him inch by inch. Fully seated he could hear Harry’s laboured breathing beneath him, one hand pressed into James’s stomach to keep him from moving.

“Okay?”

“Okay,”

And Harry lifted up the tiniest amount, hand reaching back to clasp at James’s side as James smirked, moving his hips up and slamming back down, over and over and over, watching as Harry’s lip got caught in his teeth, each of James’s movements matched by Harry as he chased upwards.

And with a modicum of control, his breathing strained, Harry peeked through squinted eyes to see James, his head tossed back to expose his neck, revealing every heightened beat of his pulse, his hard cock jutting out, thick and leaking against his stomach. Harry twisted his head to the side, trying to stay in control as his eyes focused on the suit James had laid out; simple white shirt, grey tweed, startling red tie. James followed Harry’s gaze then slowed his movements, immediately eliciting an abject whine from Harry who bucked upwards instinctively, twisting his eyes from the tie to James’s face.

“Why’d you stop?” he asked, knowing he sounded petulant. James didn’t respond, face breaking into a grin as he turned his torso towards the chair, sat with Harry still inside him as he whipped the tie off the chair. Harry squirmed beneath him, anxious to get James moving again when without warning he bent down to kiss Harry, two broad hands lifting his shoulders and head from the bed as he kissed him, mouth wet and brash. As James lowered him back to the bed Harry felt the smooth silken tie James had draped around him stroke over the skin of his neck, the red of it in stark contrast to his pale skin.

“James?” he asked, the ends of the tie tickling his nipples.

“You look so good with my tie like that,” said James, and Harry felt the blush rise to his cheeks, and his heart thud against his breastbone.

He wasn’t sure he’d ever get used to hearing someone say that.

Infinitesimally slowly Harry felt James move again, rocking upwards and pressing back down as he eased Harry back into the movement. With one hand he reached down, fingers whispering over his ribs and pinching lightly against his nipples as he wrapped the ends of the tie over his hand, twisting it loosely around Harry’s neck.

“Red, yellow or green Harry?” he asked, voice deadly serious as he rocked forward slowly.

Harry swallowed deeply, could feel the twist of the tie against one side of his neck, could feel James clenching around him, his hands on James’s thighs leaving crescent indents. He’d never done this before, never been asked his colour before. He knew what it meant but had never been asked. Harry dragged his eyes up from James’s leaking cock over his lean torso to his eyes. How far did he trust James?

“Green,” he said, voice sounding far more resilient than he felt. James gave him a heartbeat longer, eyes boring into his before nodding to himself and lifting up to slam back down, simultaneously twisting the tie tighter to Harry’s neck.

Harry could feel each fast movement of James around his cock, the softness of the tie as it twisted closer and closer over his pulsepoint. He let out a soft groan, the simultaneous pressure of James moving back and forth, knees pressing into his sides and the ever-tightening silky tie slowly pressing into his artery. Harry could feel the tightening in his belly, a strangled gasp escaping his throat as he moved up in synchrony with James’s downwards motions, the twisting gradually becoming uncomfortable, pressure building in his skull. James’s hips moved faster as Harry arched his neck gloriously back, chasing the tightness over his throat as his brain screamed for air and he was coming, hips jerking up into James uncontrollably. James kept the tie twisted over Harry’s neck for a second longer before letting it go loose as Harry hit his crescendo. And James, watching Harry chase the tightness of his favourite red silk tie, a thin pink line darting over his windpipe from where it had been twisted, his face screwed up as he practically arched up off the bed with the force of his orgasm was all it took. James tipped over the edge, two sharp jerks of his own cock and he was coming over Harry’s chest and stomach, head bent forward.

“James, James, James,” breathed Harry on his first proper exhale, the name the only thing his oxygen-deprived brain was capable of knowing.

James grinned lazily, shifting up and off Harry to slump down beside him. He reached out a hand to run his thumb under Harry’s eye, smoothing over his sharp cheekbone and dragging over his lip. Harry gently opened his eyes, squinting to refocus in the new light as he watched James watch him. James ran his fingers over the jut of his jaw to sweep over the soft pink line banded around Harry’s throat, feeling his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed.

“Will it bruise?” he whispered, suddenly unwilling to break the gentle silent air of the room.

“It’ll have faded by morning,” said James, moving his hand away to thumb at the dip of his collarbone.

Harry didn’t ask how James knew that.

His hand settled over Harry’s ribcage, the thud of his every heartbeat reverberating through his palm as he looked back up to see Harry gazing at him. The room stilled around them, Harry’s heart pounding away and James’s breath ghosting over his face. Something silent and gentle passed between them then, James’s face an open book as he looked at Harry with something like adoration and Harry, eyes wide with trust felt bathed in that gaze.

“I’ll get a cloth,” said James abruptly, peeling away from Harry to pull on pyjama pants and slip out of the room, leaving Harry looking into the dead space that had been James.

He returned swiftly with a damp washcloth, eyes crinkling with mirth as Harry remained where he’d been left, legs spread and arms flung over his head. James reached down and ran the warm cloth over Harry’s chest and down his stomach, rolling off the condom and tossing it in the bin before gently wiping Harry’s genitals and depositing the washcloth in a clothes hamper.

Harry felt James’s soft movements as he wiped over his body, taking a second to wipe over his crotch. No one had ever done that before; taken a second to smooth a cloth over his body and caress him like that.

He crooked his face into his elbow, it all becoming too much for him in that one moment. He just slept with James. Cheated on his boyfriend, whom he _loved_. The image of that ten thousand pounds in an envelope darted into his head. That was why he was here. Yes. That’s what was happening; nothing more than a simple transaction. He felt the bed dip beside him, peeked out from under his elbow to see James crawling under the duvet, lifting it over his body.

_One night of pleasure, James had said._

Yes, that’s all this was. There was nothing wrong with that. Harry shuffled over the halfway mark of the bed to wrap James up in his arms, body moving automatically post-shag. With a frown James wriggled out of Harry’s arms, wordlessly twisting them so that he was instead behind Harry, an arm draped over his stomach. Harry took a deep breath, unsure of this. He always held Ste from behind, that’s just how it was. This felt… different. It took a few minutes of hearing James’s breathing over his ear before he settled down, shifted back into his arms and closed his eyes to sleep.

 

xx

 

_Later, years later it would be a scorching August evening and Harry would shimmy and cojole and wiggle his ass until James would comply and wrap his arms around him, huffing that it was “too hot to be spooning Harry,” and “don’t yell at me if you wake up sweaty,” as Harry would grab James’s arm tight around his midriff and tuck himself neatly under James’s chin. And he’d think back to that night, of all the reasons why he did it and all of the reasons why he should’ve felt guilty but didn’t, and he’d remember the way James looked at him, and the loosely draped arm, and be grateful he did._

**Author's Note:**

> I'm honestly really new to writing any sort of smut so please any advice or criticism or anything is so, so appreciated!!


End file.
